


The heart can't yearn for what it's never known

by DeadlyWeiss



Category: Original Work
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19059805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyWeiss/pseuds/DeadlyWeiss
Summary: Edmund's father had never been the type to leave anything to chance, so when a foreign ambassador arrives at court and claims he's there to make good on a marriage arrangement that the late king signed, Edmund feels a lot of things — but surprise isn't one of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CariadWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariadWinter/gifts).



As the ambassador follows me into my study, I can't help but think that perhaps the worst part of the whole situation is how unsurprised I find myself by it.

I loved my father dearly — certainly, he hadn't been as present as he could have under other circumstances, but King Theodore had been an example of dedication and integrity both as ruler and man, and having him for a role model was ultimately more important to me than any attention I did or did not receive. The thing is, up to his very last breath, he had also been the type to treat life like a game of chess and people as pawns to be utilized in benefit of a grander purpose; his intensity and attention to detail had not only driven more than one noble to the brink of madness, but had also earning him a reputation outside the kingdom as a person that was always one step ahead.

Yet, nothing I can say about my father could paint a clearer picture of him than the fact that upon his death, I was immediately informed that he had made all the preparations for his funeral years ago, and that pretty much the only thing I had to do before being named king myself was to make sure that his instructions were followed to the letter.

So, when an envoy from the kingdom of Sawaan arrives at court a couple of weeks after my coronation, introducing himself as ambassador Nasser and claiming that my father had promised my hand in marriage to the Sawaani crown prince, I feel many things, but no, surprise is not one of them. And it's that the more the man speaks of securing an alliance that would result in the most extensive network of trading routes in the history of the entire region and the room begins to fill with impressed sighs and speculative whispers, the more it sounds like _exactly_ the kind of thing that my father would do.

And it's so like him, too, to not have informed me of any of this. I can almost hear his voice telling me that I should always be prepared, even for the things I'm not aware of.

I allow the spectacle to go on for a little longer, both for their benefit and to give myself a moment to think about how to approach this, before announcing that the ambassador and I will be discussing the matter in private.

“Your Majesty, in behalf of Prince Hassan, I thank you yet again for this audience." He closes the door behind me, and I motion for him to take a seat. He doesn't and instead, we both end up standing in the middle of the room. "And we offer our deepest condolences."

Now that we’re alone, I allow myself the opportunity to take a good look at Nasser.

I had never met someone from Sawaan in person until now, and I can’t help but feel a certain amount of fascination at how differently he carries himself from the people of Rhadia; his hair is so long that it goes well past his shoulders, but rather than looking unkept as I would expect from someone who has spent weeks on the road or even held by a single ponytail for the sake of practicality, it's adorned with more pieces of intricate jewelry of various sizes than most women wear on their entire bodies. But what sticks out the most to me are his eyes, particularly because they are of a vibrant purple that remind him of the color of fine dye.

Overall, Nasser is a very handsome man.

“I understand that you have important matters to discuss with me. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer to get right to it.”

“Before the honorable King Theodore passed away, he and Princess Najwa agreed to unite their lineages with a contract of matrimony, to be carried out once both princes took their positions on their respective thrones.” Nasser does a small bow as he takes a couple of papers folded in half out of his pocket and gives them to me. “In the light of Theodore’s death and your Majesty’s coronation, Prince Hassan considered prudent to hear that the agreement still stands from the new king himself.”

The first paper is his acknowledgement as ambassador from Prince Hassan, and though I don't know enough about Sawaani documents to be able to inspect it for any signs of forgery, it looks official enough. The second one is much more interesting, being a summary of the things both parties agreed to in regards of the marriage, written by my father and on which I have no trouble spotting my father's royal seal as soon as I hold it against the light.

“Since it seems like my father already took care of the pertinent arrangements, you can inform Hassan that as far as I’m concerned, there’s no need to discuss the matter further. I presume that he sent you because he intends for a date for us to pick a date as soon as possible?”

“Not quite. You see, Prince Hassan is a very particular man, and when he agreed to the marriage, he was certain that he would be allowed to court His Majesty according to the Sawaani customs…” 

I try my best to keep a neutral expression as I attempt to go back to reading the second document in more detail without stopping paying attention to what Nasser is saying. I'm starting to find myself with the horrible feeling that the conversation is quickly surpassing me, but I can’t allow myself to show exactly how little I know about the arrangement — or about Sawaani customs, for that matter.

Either way, it's clear to me that regardless of the course of action that my father would have expected me to take, the correct answer is definitely not offending a foreign diplomat that just traveled half a continent to meet me.

“In that case, I’m assuming that you’ve been given authority to negotiate a place for that?”

“Sawani grooms are not allowed to see their betrothed until the ceremony, instead, they appoint someone to present three gifts which they believe represent them and the value of the upcoming union. If His Majesty agrees, Prince Hassan would like to have me deliver the traditional betrothal gifts over the spawn of the month that it would take him to sort out all the kingdom’s pending business and arrive here.”

I look at Nasser for any indication that he might be trying to get away with more than he's supposed to, any sign that his request is unconventional or outrageous. I find none, so regardless of whether he's being sincere or it's a matter of practice, I don't have much choice.

“It would be my pleasure to have you as my guest, Nasser. I'll personally show you to your room.”

“You honor me with your kindness.”

As it turns out, I don’t have to offer him much more than the room, because the size of his trunk after he has it fetched it makes it immediately obvious that he already came prepared to stay here for an entire month, no matter of what my answer would be. I can hardly fault his diligence, but it does make me understand why Hassan sent such a good-looking, well-spoken man, and not someone I might have been more inclined to throw out.

***

That night, I lock myself in the royal library and give instructions that I’m not to be disturbed unless there’s an emergency that cannot be handled by anyone else.

I’m certain that my father wouldn’t have made such an agreement with only a letter in the hands of the Sawaani to back it up and that if I look hard enough, I will find a document detailing absolutely everything expected from the parties involved. So search is what I do, opening every drawer and going through every book, no matter how unimportant they might seem, until I’m completely sure that I haven’t left a single inch of the library without inspection.

The task takes me well into the early morning of the next day until I finally find the contract, locked away in a chest that I end up forcing open because I can’t be bothered to look for the keys under these circumstances.

The contract is huge, more close in size to a book than to a mere document.

The rest of my morning is spent on reading it, going over it over and over again until my fingers hurt from turning the pages and I can barely force my eyes to remain open. Even knowing my father, it’s frustrating how good it is, both because the terms are quite beneficial for the two kingdoms and because it’s redacted in such a way that pretty much guarantees that nothing except the death of either me or Hassan could break it off; if up to this point I was feeling mostly annoyance by the inconvenience of yet another of my father's plans, now it's finally dawned on me that I _am_ going to be married to Hassan.

***

As far as foreign diplomats whose presence I have been forced to endure, Nasser turns out to be more than decent company.

For one, he seems quite invested in making a good impression in the name of his maste, so rather than just keeping to himself and being as unobtrusive as possible while we wait for Hassan’s gifts, Nasser takes an interest in participating in as much activities as he’s allowed to and learning everything he can about Rhadia. From supper to religious services and even whatever vapid endeavor the courtiers decide to entertain themselves with when they have no other plans, Nasser not only does with enthusiasm, but also takes the opportunity to slip a compliment or two about Hassan and how much his Prince would love it, too. 

And what a relief it turns out to be, because it takes him no more than a couple of days to become the gossip of the entire castle and its surroundings, and I can hardly imagine what a headache it would have been if I had had to worry about keeping him away from people on top of everything else. 

_“…King Theodore truly outdid himself. None of us would have guessed that he’d manage to find not only a suitable man, but a Prince…”_

_“…Will His Highness be coming to live with King Edmund? I’ve heard that Sawaan is so different from Radhia…”_

_“…Will you adopt a royal heir, then?….”_

Nasser answers every remark with a smile, from the ones that are not ill-meaning but still said with the intention of inspecting his every word in search of fuel for gossip, to the ones spat with so much venom that they barely manage to disguise themselves as polite conversation. 

I can’t help but wonder, however briefly, if our positions were reversed, whether I would be able to find someone who could keep a cool head like this, of going through such an effort to make an arranged marriage appear as something besides a cold political transaction on my behalf.

*** 

No place as big and as full of people as the castle can truly be described as quiet, but eventually, one gets so used to the sound of the servant’s footsteps as they run from one place to another and the whispered conversations of the court that most of it becomes barely noticeable, drowned by a myriad of background noises. This is specially true in times like these, when almost everyone has so many things to keep them busy that they can’t be bothered to pay attention to anything not directly related to their duties or, at the very least, that seems like it could be important.

So, when I’m woken up by the combined sound of unfamiliar music and a large amount of people beginning to gather outside my window, I immediately make my way to the garden to investigate.

By the time I get there, there’s such a large group of people there that I have to resort to pushing some of them out of the way when my request to be let trough goes ignored, and even so it takes me about a full minute to be able to get to the front.

Whatever I was expecting to see, it definitely wasn’t about a dozen of Sawaani frolicking on the garden, playing beautiful instruments made of wood and gold while the onlookers cheer them on and request their rendition of popular songs. Between the music and their traditional attire, it’s a fascinating spectacle, and when I think about it, it’s actually a wonder that they didn’t manage to get the entire castle out here.

“Your Majesty, you’re here!”

Nasser approaches as soon as he notices my presence, not bothering to be gentle as he pulls me away from the crowd.

“It is with great honor that I present to you, prince Hassan’s first gift.”

He claps and almost as if they had been doing nothing except wait for his cue, the servants pick up their instruments and get in line in front of us. Then, one by one they kneel, presenting their instruments to me in a graceful display that almost looks like a dance.

Still, my first impression is that it must be some kind of display of power from Prince Hassan, meant to show that the kingdom possesses such wealth that they can spare to arrange the delivery of these kind of lavish gifts at a moment’s notice and to dazzle the courtiers with them. Or worse yet, that it’s meant to inconvenience me by making me play host to not only Nasser, but also to dozens of people until he arrives, and make me and the kingdom look unprepared for it.

I accept one of the instruments and give it an appraising look so it doesn’t seem like I don’t care about the gift, then I use my free hand to gesture at one of the guards to come closer.

“He will take you and your people to the treasury.”

“And the servants?”

“To be treated as guests until Hassan arrives, of course.”

Nasser stares at me with confusion for a brief moment, then covers his mouth with one of his hands, clearly trying to dissimulate his laughter. It doesn’t really feel like he’s mocking me, but rather like he finds what I just said simply too amusing to not react in some way; it's a far cry from the way I have seen him handle the nobles, but at the same time, the sudden loss of formality is more fitting to the jovial atmosphere.

“Your Majesty… these people are part of the gift, too. They used to belong to Prince Hassan, now they belong to you.”

Of course they are.

“There’s no slavery in Rhadia, but they’re welcome to stay as workers.” I rub my eyes, and I make a mental note to address the issue when I finally get to see Hassan. I can't help but sound frustrated, it would have surely come up sooner or later, but nothing changes the fact that he saw fit to send _people_ as a gift. “And either way, the instruments still need to be taken to the treasury. Since my own servants seem to have quite a bit of free time right now, I’m sure they will be more than able to show them around the castle.”

With that, they hurry to help the Sawaani carry the instruments inside the castle, and because they're still a much more interesting sight than me and Nasser even when not playing, the crowd begins to disperse almost immediately after.

"Something wrong, Your Majesty?"

"It's the hour. It's too early for all this, Nasser."

"Ah, my apologies. I will be more mindful of it in the future."

***

If there was anyone in the kingdom still unaware of the upcoming marriage, they certainly are now. Requests for an audience begin to pour in like a waterfall, the polite ones and the less influential pretend to have important business in their letters before bringing up the subject and congratulating me, the boldest and the ones sure of their value to the crown outright state that they wish to see me so that they can consider themselves officially invited to the wedding.

It’s exhausting, and I find myself reading the agreement once again to make sure that I know exactly what the ceremony will consist of before I make any promises.

***

“Your Majesty, do you have a minute?”

After the display that was the first gift, and though the Sawaani have proved to be exceptionally capable additions to the castle staff, I can’t say that I’m exactly looking forward to the remaining two. Still, I manage to muster a polite smile as Nasser catches up to me in my way to the dining hall, carrying a white box in his hands.

“Of course, Nasser.”

“His Highness’ second gift has arrived.”

He bows and waits for me to take the box, which I open with a certain amount of hesitation. This time, however, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that it's actually a folded chessboard, and that what's inside are the pieces, delicately carved out of bone in the shape of various animals that I assume are native to Sawaan.

The beautiful craftsmanship and the simplicity of the gift are enough to bring a genuine smile to my face.

“Do you know how to play?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, Nasser.”

“Would you happen to have the time to honor me with a game?”

The truth is that I'm busy, but I can't find it in me to refuse, and I'm more than a little curious about how our skills might measure against each other. I nod, and we take a seat next to each other.

As I watch Nasser set up the board, I think back on what he told me about the gifts being meant to represent the person who gives them, and how I actually don’t know much about Prince Hassan despite the fact that we’re supposed to be married in just a couple of weeks from now.

“What’s Hassan like?”

Nasser makes a small pause.

“Your Majesty, surely you must be aware that no servant would dare speak ill of their master.”

“I did not ask you to talk badly about him.” He gestures at me to go first, and I pick up a piece. “Besides, he will be my husband. If he has any defects, I’ll find out all the same.”

“A wager, then? If you beat me, I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

“And if I lose?”

“You will forego whatever activities you had planned for tomorrow and you will serve as my guide in a visit to the town. I haven’t had a proper chance to leave the castle since I arrived.”

“Fair enough.”

The game is so intense that any plans I had for small talk prove impossible almost immediately, I can’t afford the distraction. Beyond that, despite not being exactly an expert in chess, it’s not difficult for me to tell that not only is Nasser clearly the better player, but that he’s going easy on me _just_ the necessary amount so that I have chance to counter his moves without actually putting himself at risk of losing the match.

He could have easily won in the first fifteen minutes, but the game ends up dragging for more than an hour until I finally make a mistake from which I cannot recover and which he can’t convincingly pretend to not have noticed.

"Well, Nasser! No wonder you didn't seem worried about having to answer my questions."

“You're quite a good player yourself, Your Majesty.” _But I'm simply better_ goes unspoken. “It’s truly my opinion that the Prince is a wonderful man. Beloved by his people, yet feared by his enemies, like any good ruler should be.”

“You flatter him so much, and now you tell me he's just like any other ruler?”

That gets a chuckle out Nasser.

“I can tell you this. The groom will give slaves so his betrothed is taken care of in his absence, and he will give a game so they can spend time together.” He smiles as he puts the pieces back in the box with the expertise of someone who has done it dozens of time before. “I will see you tomorrow, Your Majesty.”

***

Unsatisfied by the vagueness of Nasser’s answers, it doesn’t take me long to realize that I do know someone else who could tell me about Hassan. Nasser mentioned that the servants I was gifted with all used to work for the prince, so that means that either they knew him or at the very least, they used to spend a considerable amount of time in his general vicinity.

It takes me a surprising amount of time and effort to get to talk to one of them alone — regardless of the fact that I’m supposed to be their new master, it’s clear that they hold the same opinion as Nasser about not wanting to say something I might find displeasing about either Hasaan or Sawaan, because they always make sure to give the impression of being too busy to attend to any of my requests that might involve meeting me in private and mysteriously manage to make themselves scarce whenever I’m around.

I only manage to catch a young woman in particular because she falls behind from the group of servants she was working with while carrying a very heavy marble base, which slows her down enough for me to stand in her way and keep her from changer her route to avoid me.

“Woman, I need to speak with you.” 

She gives me a puzzled look and attempts to excuse herself with an apologetic bow, but no matter how much she tries to escape the situation, she won’t go as far as to try to push me away, and that means that I only have to keep standing in her way to keep her from leaving.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t speak Rhadiant, I have seen you all receive instructions from the overseer even when Nasser is not around.”

It’s a bluff, but one that pays off, because her expression immediately changes to one of resignation.

“How may I be of service, Your Majesty?”

“Tell me about Prince Hassan. I promise that whatever you say to me won’t get back to him.”

She makes a pause that feels like it takes forever, and when she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“He’s a very just man.”

“What else?”

“He cares deeply for Sawaan and her people.”

“And?”

“And he’s very handsome.”

“That tells me nothing!”

It’s when she gives a step back despite the base that I realize that my own voice has been getting louder with each passing moment, and that at some point my tone became aggressive enough to spook her. Suddenly unable to push her any further, I move aside so that I’m no longer standing in her way, and she quickly disappears into one of the castle's many halls.

***

I’m so focused on the book in front of me that I don’t notice that there's someone else in the library with me until I hear the sound of the wooden door closing, and I turn around to see Nasser standing next to it. Even then, it takes my mind a second to really recognize him — my eyes are tired from slaving over the same text for hours, and before now, I had never gotten the chance to take a good look at him either before or after he’s dressed for the day.

The missing jewelry and simpler clothes don’t do much to detract from his attractiveness, and it’s almost a shame that I’m way too tired to appreciate the feeling of intimacy that comes with seeing him like this.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. I did not think you would be here this late.”

“Too much work and not enough hours in the day, I’m afraid.”

“I will take my leave, then.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind the company.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s an inquiry from the merchant’s guild, and those must be handled by the crown itself. They asked for a quite substantial loan, probably to be prepared to take advantage of the new trade routes as soon as they’re ready.” I close the book and push it aside. It's formal, boring business and saying it aloud only makes it sound even so. “‘l’ll be meeting the guild leader tomorrow, and I do not want to make an uniformed decision.”

I see Nasser walk over to one of the bookshelves, his eyes going over the spines of the tomes for a couple of minutes until he finally seems to find what he’s looking for.

“If I may be so bold, this would make a better reading.” He takes the book in front of me, replacing it with the one in his hand. “It’s not as in-depth, but it covers a broader amount of subjects. A request as theirs will surely take more than one meeting, and this way you’ll appear educated enough on the matter until the next audience.”

I force myself to go back to reading, surprised at how much more digestible the book he picked is.

When I wake up a couple of hours later, as I frantically look around for a clock to make sure that I didn't miss the meeting, the first thing I notice is that the candle on top of the desk was put off before it consumed itself, and that there's a blanket on my back.

***

The rest of the month goes by so quickly that it’s hard to find the words to describe it. Their company has become so pleasantly unassuming that it barely feels like they have been here for longer than a couple of days, yet at the same time, Nasser and the other Sawaani have come to fit so well with life in the castle that it's almost as if they have been here for months.

And what better example than to find Nasser lounging on the garden like he had nothing better to do than to enjoy the day, none of the servants having felt the need to inform me of his whereabouts until I asked about him.

“It’s almost been a month, Nasser. Has there been a delay with the last gift?”

“Your Majesty, your timing couldn’t be better! I’ve been meaning to talk with you.” Nasser gets up and straightens his clothes. "If you'd honor me with your company."

We start walking without a particular destination in mind. Despite some attempts from both of us, the conversation never seems to pick up beyond light talk of inconsequential things like the weather and the plants we come across, and we eventually find ourselves relatively far way from the castle, at the very edge of a pond that separates the grounds from the untamed forest, the fact that we were supposed to be talking about something important all but forgotten.

"If I had known there was something like this so close, perhaps I'd have asked you to take me swimming instead." He gets closer to the water, encouraged by the movement of the flowers resting on the surface as the fish swim close to them. "Sawaan is all green and brown! It takes such efforts from the royal gardeners to have views like this."

Then, either by a miscalculation or a poor attempt at showing off, he slips and falls right into the pond.

“Aren’t the Sawaani supposed to be graceful? I'm sure you said something like that.”

“Instead of mocking me, why don’t you come help me, Your Majesty?”

I should have seen it coming, but I'm far too entertained teasing Nasser to realize that his offended is completely fake. I bend down and offer him my hand, but instead of using it to help himself get back on his feet, he pulls me towards him as soon as he has a good grip on it and the both of us end up right in the pond.

We burst into laughter and we start pulling the other back into the water whenever one of us tries to stand up, until we run out of strength and we manage to crawl our way back to the grass. Nasser is missing several pieces of jewelry from his hair and I ended up throwing away my jacket at some point, but neither of us spares more than a passing glance in the direction of the pond to the matter. We lay there, staring at each other for what feels like an eternity, until Nasser rolls on top of me and wastes no time to start kissing me.

Nasser is handsome, and charming, and he’s _here_ , unlike the seemingly perfect prince from a far away place who can’t even be bothered to come meet me before we end up spending the rest of our lives together, the one who seems to think that he can either impress me or intimidate me with gifts and high praises sung by someone else, who insists on courting me according to old customs that are of no importance to anyone but him.

“No, no. Back off.” It takes all of my restrain to push him away. “We can’t— the prince is arriving soon, I can’t do this—“

“Why not? Do the kings of Rhadia never take courtesans in addition to their wives and husbands?”

I get up so fast that it's a surprise that I don't end up tripping with my own feet.

“We’re not even married yet, and more importantly, you were sent by him in person. It’s not the same.”

Nasser is laughing again, but even though he's doing it alone, it’s not a nervous laughter or one of embarrassment. It’s one of delight, and by the time he's managed to compose himself enough to get up as well and grab my arm to make me look at him, he's clearly out of breath.

“Ah, Edmund, how it pleases my heart to hear you say so! What I had to tell you is—“

Suddenly, Nasser stops, distracted by something in the distance that I can’t see from my position. 

“Sir, please! Visitors are not allowed to wander the grounds on their own!”

The desperate tone of the servants’ voice catches my attention, and I turn around just in time to see her and an older man that’s clearly from Sawaan walking down the path that leads to the pond, barely short of running as she futilely attempts to make him stop or at the very least, get him to slow down. He looks so upset that it sends a chill down my spine, he couldn't have possible seen Nasser kissing me from so far away.

Nasser puts himself between the two of us, keeping the man from getting to close to me.

“It's not what you think.”

“It is exactly what it seems! Did you really think you could disappear one day without a word with a dozen slaves, cross half the continent, and that Her Highness wouldn’t move mountains to find you?” The man is waving his hands frantically now, interrupting Nasser every time he tries to say something. “Hassan Taj, you bring shame to your name!”

And that’s when all starts making sense.

“Why did he just call _you_ Hassan, Nasser?”

“Edmund, I was just about tell you, I didn’t think they’d find me so soon.”

They two exchange a few words in Sawaani, of which I only manage to understand a small part that basically amounts to the man telling Nasser—no, telling _Hassan_ to be quiet and let him speak.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. It’s the most sincere hope of Her Highness Najwa that whatever the Prince did or said did not leave you with a negative impression of Sawaan.” He bows, his tone so docile and different from when he was addressing Hassan that it's off-putting. “She does not wish to see the efforts of late King Theodore go to waste because of the imprudence of youth.”

“I demand an explanation. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Edmund. But I couldn’t stomach the idea of marrying someone whom I had never met before.” Hassan tries to take my hand, but I move it away before he can. “I had to know what kind of person you were.”

“And you couldn’t ask? I offered to meet you!”

“If I waited until we met officially, it would have been too late. You read the agreement.”

I can't deal with this, it's too much. I spent almost a month convinced that I would be marrying a complete stranger in a matter of days for the sake of economic gain of my country, just a moment ago I thought that I was falling for a diplomat from his country and would have that mess to deal with, now it turns out that they're the same man, but that he might as well be a stranger anyway because he's been lying to me all this time.

“Call the guards!" I push Hassan out of the way and point at the woman. "Escort them out of the castle.”

***

About a week passes before Hassan requests a meeting with me. I don’t feel particularly inclined to grant it to him, but given that the arranged marriage is technically still in place, I can’t avoid him forever — and if I’m honest to myself, I have to admit that I was starting to become quite fond of Hassan already, and part of me is still clinging to the hope that whatever I saw in him was actually there and not merely a front that he was putting up along with his fake name.

Still, just in case, I make sure that it’s only the two of us when he comes to see me to the throne room. The lies were infuriating but ultimately between the two of us, a public humiliation would undermine my authority as king.

I feel slightly less insulted when he walks inside and I notice that he looks pretty different now, with even more expensive clothes and a completely different hairstyle and make up. He at least bothered to change something more than just his name when trying to pass off as someone else, if he hadn’t, I would have no doubt about his opinion of the intelligence of me and my people.

“I did not get to deliver my last gift.”

“Are we still doing that, Hassan? The courtship?”

“The last gift is me.” 

“A rather poor one given the recent events, don’t you think?”

Hassan approaches the throne, slowly and carefully, in the way that someone who expects to be stopped at any time would do. Then, when he’s right in front of the first step, he kneels down until his forehead is touching the floor, and he raises his head so our eyes meet.

“If you won’t take me back because you forgive me, do it because it’s the best for both of our kingdoms.”

“...Get up, I don’t care for an apology in which you humiliate yourself. If you’re serious about it, you’ll have a lifetime to make up for it.” 

He smiles, and I can’t help it but find it as every bit as charming as when he did it as Nasser. And that’s the thing, I would be an hypocrite if I blamed him for wanting more than an insipid arranged marriage out of life, when I was so ready to let myself fall for the same thing.


	2. Epilogue

The ceremony is a grand affair like the ones usually reserved for the birth of firstborn heirs and military victories — everyone who can be considered someone from Rhadia to Sawaan, and all the territories in-between, is here. I have been to this cathedral before, and the building’s size has always been imposing to the point of being intimidating, to see it so full of people just adds to how surreal this entire day has felt since the moment I woke up.

The priest welcomes the guests and marks the beginning of the ceremony, but the words sound so distant that they blur with the people’s whispers and the music being played, and by the time the Sawaani delegation walks in, I can hardly hear that the man is even speaking anymore.

Hassan, who looks simply stunning in his royal garb, is so much more worthy of my attention. If I was already under the impression that his previous attire was meant to show off the delicate craftsmanship of the Sawaani, the clothes he’s wearing now make those look simple in comparison. 

“Edmund.” He whispers once he’s standing next to me “After this, will you honor me with a game of chess?”

“Only if you promise to give it your all this time, Hassan.”


End file.
